The American Senator

and of course I know how you feel it. I don’t suppose that Mr. Twentyman is a fit companion for any of the Mortons, but for all that he may be a fit companion for me⁠—and my sisters.” Surely she must have said this with the express object of declaring to him that in spite of the advantages of her education she chose to put herself in the ranks of the Twentymans, Runcimans and suchlike. He had come there ardently wishing that she might be allowed to go to his aunt, and resolved that he would take her himself if it were possible. But now he almost thought that she had better not go. If she had made her election, she must be allowed to abide by it. If she meant to marry Mr. Twentyman what good could she get by associating with his aunt or with him? And had she not as good as told him that she meant to marry Mr. Twentyman? She had at any rate very plainly declared that she regarded Mr. Twentyman as her equal in rank. Then he took his leave without any further explanation. Even if she did go to Cheltenham he would not take her.

After that he walked straight out to Bragton. He was of course altogether unconscious what grand things his cousin John had intended to do by him, had not the Honourable old lady interfered; but he had made up his mind that duty required him to call at the house. So he walked by the path across the bridge and when he came out on the gravel road near the front door he found a gentleman smoking a cigar and looking around him. It was Mr. Gotobed who had just returned from a visit which he had made, the circumstances of which must be narrated in the next chapter. The Senator lifted his hat and remarked that it was a very fine afternoon. Reginald lifted his hat and assented. “Mr. Morton, sir, I think is out with the ladies, taking a drive.”

“I will leave a card then.”

“The old lady is at home, sir, if you wish to see her,” continued the Senator following Reginald up to the door.

“Oh, Mr. Reginald, is that you?” said old Mrs. Hopkins taking the card. “They are all out⁠—except herself.” As he certainly did not wish to see “herself,” he greeted the old woman and left his card.

“You live in these parts, sir?” asked the Senator.

“In the town yonder.”

“Because Mr. Morton’s housekeeper seems to know you.”

“She knows me very well as I was brought up in this house. Good morning to you.”

“Good afternoon to you, sir. Perhaps you can tell me who lives in that country residence⁠—what you call a farmhouse⁠—on the other side of the road.” Reginald said that he presumed the gentleman was alluding to Mr. Twentyman’s house.

“Ah, yes⁠—I dare say. That was the name I heard up there. You are not Mr. Twentyman, sir?”

“My name is Morton.”

“Morton, is it;⁠—perhaps my friend’s;⁠—ah⁠—ah⁠—yes.” He didn’t like to say uncle because Reginald didn’t look old enough, and he knew he ought not to say brother, because the elder brother in England would certainly have had the property.

“I am Mr. John Morton’s cousin.”

“Oh;⁠—Mr. Morton’s cousin. I asked whether you were the owner of that farmhouse because I intruded just now by passing through the yards, and I would have apologized. Good afternoon to you, sir.” Then Reginald having thus done his duty returned home.

Mary Masters when she was alone was again very angry with herself. She knew thoroughly how perverse she had been when she declared that Larry Twentyman was a fit companion for herself, and that she had said it on purpose to punish the man who was talking to her. Not a day passed, or hardly an hour of a day, in which she did not tell herself that the education she had received and the early associations of her life had made her unfit for the marriage which her friends were urging upon her. It was the one great sorrow of her life. She even repented of the good things of her early days because they had given her a distaste for what might have otherwise been happiness and good fortune. There had been moments in which she had told herself that she ought to marry Larry Twentyman and adapt herself to the surroundings of her life. Since she had seen Reginald Morton frequently, she had been less prone to tell herself so than before;⁠—and yet to this very man she had declared her fitness for Larry’s companionship!

XVI

Mr. Gotobed’s Philanthropy

Mr. Gotobed, when the persecutions of Goarly were described to him at the scene of the dead fox, had expressed considerable admiration for the man’s character as portrayed by what he then heard. The man⁠—a poor man too and despised in the land⁠—was standing up for his rights, all alone, against the aristocracy and plutocracy of the county. He had killed the demon whom the aristocracy and plutocracy worshipped, and had appeared there in arms ready to defend his own territory⁠—one against so many, and so poor a man against men so rich! The Senator had at once said that he would call upon Mr. Goarly, and the Senator was a man who always carried out his purposes. Afterwards, from John Morton, and from others who knew the country better than Morton, he learned further particulars. On the Monday and Tuesday he fathomed⁠—or nearly fathomed⁠—that matter of the 7s. 6d. an acre. He learned at any rate that the owner of the wood admitted a damage done by him to the corn and had then, himself, assessed the damage without consultation with the injured party; and he was informed also that Goarly was going to law with the lord for a fuller compensation. He liked Goarly for killing the fox, and he liked him more for going to law with Lord Rufford.

He declared openly at Bragton